


Welcome to the Family

by Mr_Skurleton



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, M/M, Multi, Murder, Possible smut, more tags to come, post dark brotherhood quest line, welcome to the family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Skurleton/pseuds/Mr_Skurleton
Summary: A young thief finds herself on the lamb after a fateful night in Solitude and a job for Maven Black-Briar that goes terribly wrong. Knowing full well the repercussions of crossing the matron of Riften's most powerful family, Merialeth fully expects the worst. Whether that comes at the hands of her guild-mates or the black clad band of assassins Maven keeps wrapped around her finger, remains to be seen. All Merialeth knows is she isn't going down without a fight.Scrappy and dead set on staying alive, Merialeth is more than ready to show any would be assassin that this wood elf has teeth. But what will become of her when that murderous will to live catches her a wholly different kind of attention?
Relationships: Brynjolf (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Listener (Elder Scrolls)/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	1. Careless

**Author's Note:**

> "Hey this looks familiar..."  
> Yes, it might, more on that at the bottom as well as a bit of news concerning updates for other stories. 
> 
> Otherwise, please enjoy, consider reviewing or kudo'ing and fair health to you all.

She'd been careless.

She wiped sweat slicked palms against her thighs, a feat not so easily done considering she was hanging three stories up. 'Breathe Meri, breathe and focus.' Those should have been simple instructions to follow. This wasn't her first job, nor her first time picking a lock. But the window she was pressed against was new, its lock stiff and unwieldy. 

Again she inserted the pick and the small knife used for turning the lock, her fingers trying to learn the nuances of the mechanism. Occupied with the lock and with her feet busy balancing on the small, inch wide ledge, Merialeth could only spare a moment to steal a glance beyond her shoulder. The roofs of Solitude looked back, nothing but sleeping gulls and pigeon roosts stretching back to the azure tops of the palace. A deceptively peaceful city saturated with sea salt and whipped by a brisk wind.

Twice cursed and once damned that wind was. Raking through her hair and burrowing its hailstone-tipped teeth into every inch of exposed flesh, it rattled the glass inbetween bouts of playing push and pull with her wiry frame.

  
  


The final tumbler clicked into place and the window swung inward on blessedly silent hinges. When Mercer had told her about this job she knew immediately where her point of entry would be. These new hinged windows with their built in locks might have been all the rage back home in Cyrodiil for their 'promise of security', but that prevalence only made her all the more familiar with how to get around them.

It felt good to be able to put her full weight down on her feet again as she made short work of the knots that secured the rope around her waist. Not that she could spare much time to be relieved. Just as she secured her rope to the window, no fewer than five guards swept down the alley she'd just been hanging over. Even with the late hour their steps were sure footed, torches lofted with purpose. She prayed they wouldn't look up.

'Civil unrest' Brynjolf called it, his expression grim as he filled her in on the details Mercer left out. Solitude had been having troubles or something like it.

'Name a hold that isn't having trouble.' She'd been glib with him before, he'd done his best to ignore it. Pity so many of their conversations went in a similar vein.

Nocturnal must have taken pity on her though, for it wasn't long before those crimson clad sentries had turned the corner with their pool of light trailing after them. Swearing she'd apologize to Brynjolf when she made it home, Merialeth cast her eyes about the room she stood in.

Luxury was the word that came to mind, mostly because Merialeth couldn't figure out what the room was even used for. A long table ran the length of most of it, made out of some dark timber and encircled by chairs of the same make. She would have guessed dining room were it not for the huge map of the province on one side and the bookshelves lining the other. It seemed every inch of available wall space was taken up by something; wall hangings whose colors and images were mostly lost in the dark, weapon plaques with all manner of 'noble' blades crossed over them. If it was a dining room than the owner of the manor had strange decor tastes indeed.

As she crept like some tiny, pointy-eared specter from room to room she was thankful for many things. The first was the Lord’s expensive taste in rugs. So thick was their ply that her already muffled footsteps were rendered silent, even over the wooden planks that made up the floor beneath her. The second was a gift Delvin had given her after her first real job. A little silver ring enchanted with night eye, allowing her to see as the Desert Cats did. Of course, she'd suspected the reason he'd given it to her was because it was too small for anyone else to wear. Being petite did have its advantages.

At last she found the room she was looking for. Beyond a damnably creaky door stood an opulent study. Like every other room she'd seen so far, it was extravagantly decorated. The air was permeated with the warm scent of good leather, parchment, ink and beneath it all a woodsy scent she was pretty sure was lavender. There were more bookcases here than she'd noted in that first room, which posed something of a problem. The thing she was looking for was a book, a rather large one or so she'd been told.

A quick scan of the shelves told her that detail wasn't going to be of much help.

_ 'Might as well have told me to look for one that had words in it.' _ She knew grumbling wasn't going to help but it at least made her feel better. _ 'Alright, obvious places first, nooks and crannies last.' _

The room's main feature was a desk set against a pair of large stained glass windows. It was towards this behemoth of wood and drawers she moved, its book and page piled top just as good a possibility as any other.

It didn't take near as long as she'd feared it would to find the ledger Mercer had described to her. Merialeth supposed she had the manor's owner to thank for that; you could always trust an Imperial to make a thief's job easy because of his inherent need to be organised. Now all that was left were the changes the client desired.

Merialeth had little doubt who that client was either. With the guild's falling reputation there really was only one person who still came to them for jobs like this: Maven Black-Briar. Just thinking of that woman's name made the Bosmer's skin want to crawl under the nearest rug and hiss in contempt. It wasn't just that the crone was constantly sticking her nose into guild business, for Merialeth had known plenty of obtusely nosy people in her lifetime. No, it was the threat she posed if she was displeased… or, perhaps more accurately,  _ when _ she was displeased.

Merialeth had been victim to that herself a while ago, a broken wrist compliments of Maul on Maven's behalf. And all because she'd had the nerve to…

Merialeth sighed, and finished patting the ink dry. She still had a job to finish regardless of how little she cared for the one paying her to do it. Anger wouldn't line her pocket, wouldn't put food in her belly. 

She placed the ledger back exactly how she'd found it and began making her way back to her point of entry. Now that her task was done she let her guard relax. The entire time she'd been inside the house she hadn't heard so much as the stirring of a mouse, confirming what Mercer had told her about the house supposedly being empty.

Of course, passing by all that abundant luxury made her fingers itch something fierce.

_ 'Such a shame, real, honest-to-the-Eight, glass display cases and no one around to even see me.' _ She tried to distract herself with the knowledge she would be paid once she made it back to Riften, but it didn't help much. Maven's jobs barely paid anything, as if the woman enjoyed the fact that she could toss out difficult jobs that paid next to nothing and be smug in the fact that threat alone would squash any refusal.

It was a hard thing to swallow and Merialeth was nearly through with taking such bitter doses.

As if by some prod of fate, her wandering eyes landed on the contents of a glass case glinting in a shaft of moonlight. A pearl necklace, rings with garnet and amethyst set into gold and silver, strands of delicate wrought metal in elegant designs all winking at her from their glass prison. And amid them all, so far from delicate and beautiful, a tool of harm wickedly beckoned to her.

There was a pick in her hand before she even registered grabbing for one. Of course, such treasures would not be given easily. She could tell by the scratch of her pick over minute pins that this lock was going to be far more difficult than those she'd dealt with in the house previous. And as the twang of snapped metal echoed off down the hall, Merialeth winced. Perhaps she was not quite as favored by Nocturnal as she'd thought.

A total of six picks were sacrificed in the pursuit of her singular goal to walk away from Solitude with more than picks in her pocket. With the case open, she made quick work of shoving the jewelry and gems in those pockets, saving the best prize for last. She'd read about such weapons before, jet black ebony forged and then quenched in oblivion's own blood. Balimund swore blades forged from Dragon bone were better, but as Merialeth's gaze caressed over each wicked curve lying on velvet ripple, she didn't quite buy that.

She reached forward, fingers extended and felt nothing but paint and iron.

_ 'That can't be right...' _

But she didn't have time to contemplate the oddness of this, a sound immediately to her left pulling her attention instantly elsewhere.

A girl… no, a woman but only barely, stood no more than five feet from her, eyes impossibly wide and shoulders shaking.

A mind only moments ago consumed with confusion, ordered itself swiftly, honing in on such small details.

_ 'Lower class clothing, young, servant girl.'  _ Like the ticks of a grandfather clock these thoughts came, echoed and faded.  _ 'Unarmed, quick, preparing to scream.'  _ Instincts Merialeth didn't know she had made her break into action. The woman took two steps back, her arms coming up in an attempt to protect herself. Too slow, too clumsy. 

There was no sound, just the feeling of a pounding in her skull, the ache of fingers clenched too tight and once warm droplets cooling across her face. Merialeth took one look into those wide eyes as the life drained from them, and fled.

  
  
  



	2. Bitter Dregs

Maven longed for a rag to hold over her nose.

The Ragged Flagon smelled like it always did: a mixture of sewage, wood rot and unwashed bodies in a moist place.

"Such excuses. I did not come down here to listen to excuses." She kept her tone even. Shouting was beneath her, this whole affair was beneath her, but one does what one must. "An utter failure, don’t act as if it were anything less. Do you have the tiniest inkling what this is going to cost me? What this is going to cost all of you?"

“It’s not even a matter of money at this point.” Maven waved off Vekel as he attempted to bring her a glass of the swill he served. She might have had to traipse down here in the dead of night but that hardly meant she’d be sacrificing any more dignity. “The sheer damage a murder causes. In Solitude of all places. As if the guard there weren’t jumpy enough, now every ounce of side business I have tied up there is in jeopardy all because your girl couldn’t be bothered to dispose of a body. It was the least she could have done considering she apparently lacked the skill to simply not get caught in the first place.”

“We can’t know for sure what really happened Maven…” Delvin started only to be cut off by the bitterness of her ensuring laughter.

“Can’t we?” she rebuked with a dismissive wave. “You think I don’t look after my interests? But that’s more than you need to know. All you need to do is explain to me how you intend to correct the situation. Starting I should think, by telling me where she is.”

“She isn’t here.” Delvin said quietly into his cup. 

“Not here.” Maven couldn’t resist the sneer that pulled across her lips. “Why am I not surprised? You doubt my sources about the nature of her failure and yet wonder why she’s run off? If it wasn’t her doing then what reason could she possibly have for not returning to collect her payment? So either she did return and you all are keeping her ‘safe’ somewhere, or she hasn’t returned and your guild is even more inept than I thought.”

Delvin said nothing, his pallor visible even in the guttering torchlight. It was irritating that Mercer didn't come to meet her in person, his actions as of late making Maven doubt his worth with each passing day.

"Lat me put it in words you can understand. If Mercer is unwilling or unable as the case maybe, to retrieve the girl and hand her over to me then perhaps it is time I find someone more capable."

That did it. A shiver so pervasive not even the air was spared its trespass.  _ ‘Finally, some headway.’ _ It was never without thought that Maven uttered such a pointed threat but these were trying times. The matron of the Black-Briars didn't exactly blame them for their averted eyes and suddenly dry tongues, mentioning her newest 'dog' had a way of inspiring people in such a manner. Still, they could have pretended to have spines for once, instead of cowering into their watered down ales.

Like a cat with cream Maven rose from her seat and motioned to the mountain of a man tasked with escorting her.

"Maul I believe we're done here." As she passed the spot at the bar where Brynjolf sat, glaring into the drink he was nursing, Maven couldn't resist a sneer. "That is if, you’re lucky."

Once Maven had gone and was well out of earshot, Delvin took a seat besides his melancholy guild-fellow.

"Ya don’t think she would...?" It was a tentative question, the look on Brynjolf's face making the older thief's approach cautious to say the least.

"Gods I hope not. Straight into Maven's claws like a mouse into a trap? We taught her better I should think." Brynjolf's hands fell from his face to hang between his knees. There was a throbbing behind his eyes he didn't want to name and a pit in his gut that didn't bode well at all.

"We taught her to keep her blade clean…"

"Don't ya dare." Temper as red as his hair flared up from Brynjolf's chest and off his tongue. "We've no idea what happened, I trust Maven's word about as far as I can throw her."

Vex saved Delvin from having to say anything to that. Seated on Brynjolf's left, the blonde's hand was up and smacking the back of Brynjolf's head afore either male could move.

"Fighting helps what exactly?" Vex asked tersely. She didn't blame her fellow thief for his anger, it was better than the alternative. However, squabbling wasn't going to get them anywhere.

Vex drained her tankard and let the bitter dregs linger on her tongue. She'd begged Mercer to give her that job. She was wiser, more cautious, had a knack for knowing when to cut and run. It hadn't made a damned bit of difference.

"Aye," Brynjolf said at last, letting his head fall back and casting his gaze to the ceiling. His fears would not leave him, playing across that dark canvas over and over again until in desperation he reached for the slimmest of straws. "Any chance of getting them to not take the contract?"

"Doubtful, Maven's got her fingers deep in that pie. But I guess it's worth a try." Just thinking about another meeting with  _ him _ made a shudder slither down Delvin's spine.

"We have any other options?" added Vex as she motioned towards Vekel to get the man's attention. "Vekel, you got any paper back there? I need to write a letter."

**Author's Note:**

> So I have attempted several times to get this story off the ground. Deleting it, reworking it and then reposting it in a vicious and soul crushing cycle.   
> I was content to mostly fiddle with it as a side project until I realized that other stories I've written and posted (a.k.a. stories that have garnered far more attention and desperately need finishing) hinge on events that take place in this story.   
> So, in order to finish those other stories which people seem to like to some degree, I have to get this one down and moving. This is why shared universes are evil.


End file.
